


Not Quite Cops and Robbers

by veleda_k



Category: White Collar
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Handcuffs, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veleda_k/pseuds/veleda_k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara tries out some alternative interrogation techniques. Neal's only too happy to go along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Cops and Robbers

Neal is already sitting down when Sara enters the room. He's dressed casually in a partially unbuttoned dress shirt and dark jeans, and it looks as natural on him as the three piece suits do. At first glance his posture is loose and easy, but Sara can see the subtle tension there, and his eyes are bright with anticipation. He meets her gaze and quirks a smile. _Ready when you are._ Returning his smile with a sly one of her own, Sara brings out two pairs of handcuffs. She notes with pleasure that the speed of his breath increases ever so slightly.

The handcuffs snap shut with two satisfying clicks, each pair attaching one of Neal's wrists to the chair. She wouldn't want to make it too easy now, would she? Of course, she knows that he could still slip or pick them without any trouble, but she also knows that he won't. That would spoil the game. 

She takes a step back and looks down. With Neal sitting down and her in stilettos, she towers over him. "I think we both know why you're here, Mr. Caffrey." She runs her hand down his cheek, pressing her nails firmly enough to be felt, but not enough to scratch.

He looks up at her impishly. "I've been invited to so many of these. Why don't you refresh my memory?"

So he's going to play it that way. She can work with that. Her voice is icy when she replies. "Three days ago, the Mona Lisa vanished into thin air. I think you know exactly what happened to it." (The choice of painting had been Neal's idea. "I never did get the chance to try," he had told her with a wink.) She fists her hand in his hair and pulls his head back. "I can make this easy on you, Caffrey, or I can make it very, very hard." The last word escapes as a sultry whisper, and Sara delights in the way it makes Neal squirm in his seat. 

"You'll have to remind me." His words come out a little breathy, despite their impudence. "Which one's the Mona Lisa?"

She's tempted to slap him, just enough to leave a mark. She wants to get out her flogger and beat some respect into him. But that isn't the game this time, so instead she tightens her grip on his hair, not harsh enough to cause any real pain, but definitely enough to make her point. "Don't screw with me."

He shrugs, making the cuffs jangle. "I won't talk."

"Really?" Sara trails her fingers along Neal's collarbone. She undoes one of the buttons on his shirt, then another. "As much as I'd love to beat it out of you, I think another method is required." While one hand continues to play with the buttons on Neal's shirt, she slips two fingers of her other hand into his mouth. "Suck on them," she orders, her voice low. He obeys readily. His mouth is hot and wet, and feels incredible enough that Sara loses herself for several moments imagining that mouth on the rest of her body. It's with great reluctance that she removes her fingers and rests them against his bare chest, but she's ready to move the game forward. She leans in close. "I knew you could be good," she whispers as her wet fingers trace patterns on his skin. She takes his earlobe between her teeth and tugs gently. 

Neal chokes back a groan. "I haven't told you anything yet."

Sara smirks. "We have plenty of time for that." She brushes her lips against his. "There's still so much I want to do to you." She brings down her hand and lightly sweeps it across the crotch of his pants. He jerks, pulling at the cuffs. Sara scrutinizes at him in mock surprise. "Have I been ignoring something?" Slowly, she unzips Neal's pants and frees his cock, which is already rock hard. She places once finger against the tip, barely making contact. He gasps and tries to arch up into her hand, but she pulls away. "I don't think you've been _that_ good," she teases. 

"I can be better." He's staring at her so hungrily that she can't resist taking pity on him, just a little. She tilts his head up and kisses him, then ups the stakes by running her finger up and down his shaft. He moans into her mouth, and she deepens the kiss briefly before pulling away. She steps back and looks Neal up and down. He's hard, flushed, and his breathing is heavier than usual, but otherwise he appears remarkably composed. She's going to have to fix that. Hiking up her skirt, she slides her underwear down and steps out of it. She eyes Neal. He's lost his nonchalant expression, and his eyes are fixed on her, with something almost reverent in them. 

"Do you want me to fuck you?"she asks roughly.

He swallows. "Oh god, yes."

"All right." She adjusts her skirt a little more and sinks down onto him. She knows she's supposed to be playing the stoic one in this scene, but it feels so damn good that she can't hold back a groan. She rides him fast, pausing every now and again to kiss him fiercely, strong enough to bruise. He whimpers as she moves against him, and she notices how his hands clench and unclench with each thrust. "Poor boy," she says, all fake sympathy. "You must really want to touch me." He nods desperately. "Well," she continues, "you know what you have to do." He shakes his head. Good, she's not done. Unhurriedly, deliberately, she lowers her hand and presses her fingers right above her clit. "Ah!" She applies a little more pressure. "Oh, god."

"The Gare de Lyon train station, in Paris," Neal bursts out. "In a locker. That's where I hid the painting."

Grinning triumphantly, Sara pulls the key out of her bra and unlocks the cuffs. Neal's hands move like lightning, one of them tangling in her hair, while he slips the other under her blouse, pushing up her bra to tease her nipples. Sara moans and bucks her hips hard, and Neal comes with a great rush of air. He drops his head, resting it against her chest. She lets them both rest for a bit before sliding off Neal. It takes effort to keep her legs from shaking, but she manages to stay sure and steady as she walks to the bed. She sits down and spreads her legs. Looking straight at Neal, she points at the floor in front of her. 

Neal doesn't have to be told twice. He eagerly makes his way over to her and drops to his knees. She shudders violently as he lifts her skirt and presses his tongue inside her. She's so close to the edge, but he holds her off, licking around her inner thighs, barely making contact with her cunt. She can't see his face, but she knows how smug he must look. Roughly, she pushes his head forward. _Finish up._ He clearly gets the message, because he touches his tongue directly to her clit, and Sara comes hard. "Oh, fuck, Neal!" 

It takes her some time to get herself under control. Once she finally does, she pulls Neal up on the bed beside her. His breath is ragged, and his lips and chin are slick. "Was that what you wanted?" she asks.

"Mmm, yes." Everything about him is languid and relaxed. "What about you?"

"That was exactly what I wanted," she confirms. "Next time, though, I want to slap you. I think you need someone to smack you properly every once in a while."

He presses his forehead to hers. "I think you're right." The low, throaty sound he makes sounds almost like a purr. He draws Sara close, and she lets him. She's never been a cuddler, but Neal is, and with him she finds she doesn't mind.

They lie there in comfortable silence until Sara asks the question that's been gnawing at her. "Have you ever actually hidden something in the Gare de Lyon?"

Neal laughs and kisses her. "Oh, you'll have to work much harder to get _that_ out of me."

She shoves him playfully and kisses back, but her mind is whirring with ideas for next time. Let it never be said that Sara Ellis backs down from a challenge, after all.


End file.
